


Missing You Again

by 1848pianist



Series: Miles to Go Before I Sleep [5]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chicago (City), Goodbyes, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1848pianist/pseuds/1848pianist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There comes a time in all things to say goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing You Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JehanFerres](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JehanFerres/gifts).



> I don’t know if O’Hare is actually a stop on the train route of Chicago. Also, this is fiction so I can make it up if there isn’t. All this is hopefully a distraction from the sadness that is to come – warning, this is the sad bit.

Combeferre cried on the train to the airport. He tried to keep Jehan from noticing, of course, pretending to be preoccupied with the bags and staring determinedly at the ground.

 _Now arriving at O’Hare Airport. Doors open on the left at O’Hare Airport,_ the recorded voice informed him. He hastily wiped at his eyes – he could be brushing away an eyelash, or something, and helped Jehan gather his things, believing he had successfully escaped his concern.

As soon as they had fought their way out of the crowd, however, Jehan tugged at his arm and pulled him over to a quieter section of the crowded waiting area. 

Jehan studied him with a worried expression. “Are you going to be okay, love?”

Combeferre felt as though he would start crying all over again. “I just don’t want you to leave.”

“I know. I don’t want to go, either.” Jehan dropped his bags, standing on tiptoe to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. Combeferre returned the embrace, pressing his face into Jehan’s shoulder and trying not to sob.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I’ll love you just as much from across an ocean as I do here.” Jehan pressed his lips gently to Combeferre’s cheek, lingering a few precious seconds before pulling back.

Combeferre tightened his hold briefly before letting him go. Jehan smiled in return. “Thank you.”

“Come on,” Jehan said quietly, offering his hand as he led the way to his terminal where his plane was scheduled to arrive. _Such an apt name_ , he thought. _So final_. They were cutting it close – if truth be told they had both waited until the last minute to leave the apartment, neither one willing to sacrifice a second of the time they had left together.

Combeferre was thinking of the last time he had been in an airport, waiting with anticipation rather than dread.

“I wonder why they make the benches in airports so uncomfortable,” Jehan said. “It’s as if they’re trying to make the experience even more painful.” Combeferre squeezed his hand by way of answer; he didn’t want to let go until Jehan was gone.

“We’ll still talk, you know,” Jehan murmured. “It’ll just be the way it was, before I came. It won’t be any different.”

“I want it to be different.”

 _Flight to London now boarding_ , the recorded voice interrupted.

“That’s my cue.”

Combeferre threw his arms around him, wishing he could stop time and wondering what would happen if he never let go. Wondering what would happen if Jehan could stay, if they never had to be separated by half a planet again.

“I’ve got to go, love,” Jehan said with quiet resignation in his ear.

“This might be the last time I get to do this.”

“I’ll be back. I promise you, I’ll be back.” Gently, he pulled Combeferre’s arms away. “I’ll talk to you soon, love. Goodbye.”

Combeferre managed to choke out a goodbye before Jehan was gone.

 

Jehan slept on the plane, wandering blearily around Philadelphia for a while between flights. He wasn’t tired, but he dozed on the next leg as well; it was too painful to think about anything at the moment.

 

Combeferre went home, distracting himself with schoolwork and tidying his apartment. Courfeyrac texted him, but he ignored it until he heard the chime that meant Enjolras had sent a message. Both wanted to know how he was doing. He turned off his phone.

***

“You work too hard, love.”

It was true that Combeferre had been even more productive than usual in the weeks since Jehan had left. Joly had mentioned something to Enjolras about mania but hadn’t pressed the issue.

“Just finishing coursework before finals,” he said to the webcam. Before, Skype calls had been the best moments of his week, but now they felt flat in comparison to seeing Jehan in person.

“Don’t wear yourself out.”

“I’ll be okay.” And he would be, if okay was melancholic, exhausted, and frustrated.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Goodnight, love.” The problem with one goodbye is that it often led to another.

***

Jehan was beginning to lose track of the mornings he had spent by his computer, waiting for Combeferre to log in. He could hardly fault him for this; according to Google it was still the middle of the night for him, although for Jehan it was already daylight.

The day stretched out ahead of him, and there was no shortage of things to do; he could write, clean his untidy apartment, get ready for his shift later that afternoon at the local bookstore. Instead he worried about Combeferre and felt the weight of loneliness settle around him until he could no longer bear to hold it in. Whatever he did – whatever lengths he went to – there would still be thousands of miles between him and the one he loved.

***

A few weeks later, Jehan opened his email to find a message that made him smile more than he had since leaving Combeferre’s apartment for the last time.

***

Just as he was returning to some sense of normality, finals struck. _One more week_ , Combeferre told himself, _one more week until Christmas break_.

After what felt like a thousand late nights trying to talk to Jehan and cram for an exam simultaneously (though in truth it had only been five days), Combeferre all but collapsed in front of his computer.

 _Merry Christmas_ , he typed by way of greeting.

 _Same to you_ , Jehan replied instantly. _I have something for you_.

Combeferre clicked the link, smiling as a recording of “I’ll be Home for Christmas” began to play.

           


End file.
